Definition: The Wonders Of Distortion
by EMMSixteenA4
Summary: A story I wrote about three years ago inspired by the Crysis franchise. Discontinued. Fans of Crysis will feel right at home- if not slightly baffled. Note: I wrote this when I was younger, spelling mistakes are possible, grammar might not be 110%. Finally, note that this is a BAD, BAD story. Corny and unprofessional dialogue ahead.


**_Definition: The Wonders of Distortion: 1: Internal Bleeding_**

The path formed. _Sprint. Must make it._ It made rolling and grinding sounds as his footsteps clunked against the pathway. _It's quiet... _ he thought. But the purpose of his NanoWare suit, _Mist Ahead, _was to maximize the Shroud armor's Stealth capabilities. So, this must mean that the path was not made of Plasma Compound Comosite of the Memory Houses, or "Screen Meusems" as the older folks called them. So what was this tunnel made of if it could move, change, and rearrange? His WER-28 Shotgun Pistol,_ Gaige_, needed to be reloaded. But he'd have to stop running... Not now. _You called._ The words lit and flashed on his display. The tunnel formed fully. Almost at the end, he felt unsafe. Taking his TRISKUL-22 Long Rifle, _Disgrace, _he loaded the chamber full, Elveven rounds, and added one to the chamber, thus making twelve. Turning on thermals, he checked the exit. Feeling unsure of CQC, he reloaded his WER-28. _A twenty-eight gauge, dinner for the bad man. Wait... My Heads-Up-Display is... Jammed? Scrambled? Yes, that's the word. No wait, it's in the back of my head, let me collect myself. Distorted. Yes, yes that is the word. No doubt, my HUD is distorted. It's the... the, the, the, the fucking... what the hell _are_ you?_ He was quickly answered. The screen distorted again, and his ammunitions counters and suit layer integrity measure systems flickered. His weapon trajectory judgement units died. His Stealth fluttered and he was visible. _I am no longer the ultimate soldier._ Text began writing on his HUD, not like how an objective would though. From back to front. _elosnoC ehT. _Again, the HUD distorted and then it read: _The Console_. Then, like an objective would, it changed and read: _Cover_. He ran to a piece of cement. He realised it was a road block. He noticed something on the ground. With nightvision, along with all other abilities gone, he looked at it and came to the verdict it was the corpse of an implaled asian policeman. Impaled on a long rod. By a NanoGear user judging by the deformed ribcage. Beside him lay a very, very old, but unscathed and shiny M1911... _How can this be? It is banned in fourteen countries. When America was destroyed, so were most American... Things. _His squad were the last of Y depot, the only ones who made it out of Ontario base and got far enough to survive, even with an extremely crippled dropship. Jack... John. Jamie. And Horatio. No, he promised Horatio. For the first time in six years, Delta-Niner Operative Jason Jones spoke. "D_on_'t-" His voice cracked, then he coughed out, hoarsly: "Don't worry, _H. i'll_ fucken' get 'em. And I'll find Jackson. No, I'll do better. I'll _get_ him." If he could still feel pain- this was the stuff.

_Pain... Evil stuff. Evil is to be shot. _This was getting repeditive... _Ah._ Something kicked him.

"_What the hell *are* you?" _It was a Diety Incorporated Operative, or a DIO. _Talking may come in handy._

"Too quiet." Whispered Jason. _Instantly _standing up, making the DIO lose balance by the sheer force of the NanoGear, then gripping the DI's helmet as he was trained to, snapped his neck.

"_Simple." _He released th DIO's body and it crumpled to the ground. But a sickly sweet taste filled his mouth... He tried to breathe and gargled... _My lungs are filling!_

His visor completely blackout. He tried to remove his helmet to cough out some blood, but couldn't, just _couldn't_.

"John's signals are dead. His bios are flatlined. Fan out, DIO, let's do some search and destory!"

_Aw fuck, fuck, fuck, it's a DI squad!_ He heard a shot and a ripple coursed through his side, and

"Oh what the fuck? Target hit, no sign of damage!"

_I'm not dead yet..._

Another, louder and it _hurt_. Yellow symbols illuminated his darkness:

_I'll help. I'll clean you._ _I'll upgrade you._ His Suit Update Anouncer-SUA- voice sounded more artificial now- Choppy sylablles and tone. _Suit layer rigid integrity at 75 percent. Respond, Colonel._

The M1911 would do. He picked it up- checked the clip, a rammed it into the weapon. His slide auto-released.

"Gotta few tricks up your sleeve, eh?" Jason needed to tell that damn AI there was no more USMC to be a Colonel in. He peaked cover, and shot off three .45's in a DI's chest. There was a odd sound from the gun. _What?!_ Jason though- It was loaded withe .45 HE rounds- High explosive, no tolerance.

He tore through the DI squad with it, _One shot, _One _Kill._

When the area was clear, he put his helmat back on. He was alright now.

"Who says a new dog can't learn new tricks?"

He holstered it. Now for the AI.

"Now, SUA, who the hell are you?"

The response was reflex. _I am your boss. General O'Sullivan. The retake of North America is begining, son. I'll be walking you through this._

"SUA, you sick fuck? Is my suit really losing it?"

_Exit the cryotube bay_

It was an objective- and he hadn't had an objective in Nine years.

He was jerked from reality- And led into a distorted torn world from whence he came.


End file.
